


Everything Has Changed

by wastedperfume



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drunk confessions, Friends to Lovers, Katsuki/Nikiforov wedding, Light Angst, Long-Distance, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Sexting, Snapchat, Sort-of, Yuuri gives A+ relationship advice, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-23 02:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9636971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wastedperfume/pseuds/wastedperfume
Summary: "Yuri Plisetsky’s presence hadn’t changed Otabek’s life overnight, or in any dramatic fashion. Its effect had been gradual, built up incrementally through minute additions and alterations to his daily routine and outlook on the world. It had gone unnoticed by even Otabek himself until one day he looked up to see that the green of the grass was just a little more brilliant than before, and just a little reminiscent of Yuri’s eyes, and the realization hit him square in the face."Wherein Yuri grows up a little, Otabek realizes something important, and Yuuri gives the best relationship advice. Also there's a wedding.





	1. Realizations and Contemplations

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I don't have a beta for this so I apologize for any mistakes! Also I have no idea how Snapchat works but I've decided to feature it heavily throughout this fic because I'm a masochist (kidding. slightly.) so forgive me if I fuck that up as well. 
> 
> Also I haven't tagged this as underage because age of consent in Russia is 16, but if that's an issue for you please click away. Thanks!

It was strange to think about how, in the span of only six months, Yuri Plisetsky had completely changed Otabek’s life. Okay, maybe it wasn’t a 180 degree shift. To the casual acquaintance Otabek’s life probably seemed unremarkably stable throughout the course of his newly found friendship. He remained as disciplined and stoic as ever, waking up at the crack of dawn to train, speaking little more than a few glib syllables to his rink mates, and living off of bland oatmeal and protein powder to fuel his perpetually aching muscles. Skating and his family remained the centre of his life, as evident by the hours he poured into his training and the affection he poured onto his little sister.

Yuri Plisetsky’s presence hadn’t changed Otabek’s life overnight, or in any dramatic fashion. Its effect had been gradual, built up incrementally through minute additions and alterations to his daily routine and outlook on the world. It had gone unnoticed by even Otabek himself until one day he looked up to see that the green of the grass was just a little more brilliant than before, and just a little reminiscent of Yuri’s eyes, and the realization hit him square in the face.

Nowadays, he awoke at the crack of dawn to at least a handful of notifications from Snapchat, sent by Yuri after Otabek had already fallen asleep (the time difference, though only three hours, could be a nuisance). Most of them consisted of Yuri’s cat, the dinner Yuri’s grandfather had cooked for him that evening, or the new outfit Yuri had purchased for himself that afternoon. While preparing cereal for his sister, who had trained herself to be an early riser as well out of a desire to spend more time with him, he’d shoot off a short message in reply. It was usually just a picture of the sky with accompanied by a comment on the food or the outfit, or even just a “good morning.” The thought of Yuri waking up to a “good morning” message from him made his chest tight in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Not even the oatmeal had escaped Yuri’s effects. Upon receiving a snap of Otabek’s breakfast, Yuri had expressed his extreme distaste, calling him boring and unimaginative. Although Otabek knew he meant this all in good fun, he’d begun arranging chopped fruit on top of it, and sometimes drizzling maple syrup on those days of indulgence. Yuri was an unapologetic food enthusiast; the zeal with which he talked about his grandfather’s cooking almost rivaled that with which he talked about skating. In addition, he was very proud of being a pretty decent cook himself, often promising to prepare various dishes for Otabek if he ever got around to visiting. So when Yuri replied to a picture of his new and improved breakfast with a “yum!” Otabek couldn’t stop himself from beaming. It clearly wasn’t a compliment Yuri doled out lightly (Yuri wasn’t the type to toss around compliments in the first place, let alone those cuisine-related), and so when his sister interrogated him about why he was smiling like a dope at his phone, he couldn’t manage to summon any shame. Ever since fruit on his oatmeal had become just another part of his routine.

Although he remained far from talkative, Otabek’s rink mates could attest to a change in his demeanor as well. The words he exchanged with them during practice remained sparse and impersonal, but lately they’d been accented with the occasional grin. Sometimes he overheard them speculating about the cause of this change, and had to keep himself from laughing at their theories. Most of them concluded that he must have acquired a girlfriend, as he suddenly couldn’t keep his hands off of his phone. Admittedly, this was true. Before Yuri had taken over his life, Otabek wasn’t one for technology, or social media. He’d been in the habit of turning his phone off for hours at a time during practice, and hadn’t even owned an Instagram. The long distance friendship had certainly fostered a possibly unhealthy relationship with his phone, but Otabek couldn’t be bothered to care. He loved getting videos of Yuri’s developing step sequences and jumps, courtesy of Mila, and Yuri’s grossed out selfies whenever Yuuri and Victor so much as looked at each other.

And although Otabek’s family remained the centre of his life, his definition of family had somehow grown, in such a relatively short period of time, to include Yuri. Despite all the ways in which Yuri had changed his life, Otabek had remained largely oblivious to just how much affection he harboured for the small blonde Russian until one sunny afternoon, sitting on the grass in his backyard with his sister. She’d been pestering him about who he’d been spending so much time on the phone with, and that day he finally agreed to show her. He pulled up Yuri’s Instagram and let her scroll through the pictures. She was quiet for a while, staring intently at his phone while sitting cross-legged in the grass, her pigtails ruffled by the light breeze. She finally stopped at a picture of Yuri stretching, one leg behind his head and glaring into the camera with those piercing soldier’s eyes. “He’s pretty,” she said.

Otabek absently hummed in agreement. “Yeah, he is.”

Wait.

What?

Otabek couldn’t believe he’d just said that. It wasn’t so much what he’d said, but how he’d said it. Of course he thought Yuri was pretty. He’d thought that since before they’d ever met in person, watching Yuri’s qualifying events on the television. Anybody with eyes and a sane head could see that Yuri Plisetsky was pretty. But not many of them said it. Especially not the men. It wasn’t normal for straight men like him to comment on each others beauty.

The words had been so automatic. He hadn’t even thought about them before speaking. They’d bypassed his brain, left his mouth as if programmed into his very soul. And his tone. He barely recognized his own voice. He’d said those words so softly, so gently, that if it had been someone else speaking, he would have been certain they were talking about a lover.

Oh.

_Oh_.

“Beka?” Arina, his sister, asked. “Are you okay?” No. Otabek Altin was 100% not okay. Because Otabek Altin had just realized that he had a crush on his younger, male, long-distance, best friend.

                                                                                                               

* * *

 

 

“Yurio!” Victor sing-song called from the foyer. “Come onnn, we’re going to be laaaatte!”

The event in question, which Yuri had single-handedly ensured they were be very late to, was an appointment with the tailor to get his best-man suit fitted. The wedding was fast approaching, and preparation and planning had quickly overtaken all of Yuri’s free time. Insisting that he was part of the family, Viktor and Yuuri dragged him to every cake-tasteing, venue tour and flower arrangement party imaginable. Why on earth had he even agreed to be Viktor’s best man in the first place? (He knew very well that he’d said yes because he’d thought it sounded like a very important and prestigious position to be in, and people would be awestruck when he told them that he was best man at the highly anticipated Katsuki-Nikivorov wedding, but that was beside the point. Also Yuuri had already chosen Pichit as his best-man, so it was either Viktor’s or nothing.)

The point was that if Viktor and Yuuri insisted on wasting his time with frivolous wedding planning, it was only fair that he waste theirs. So while Viktor waited expectantly at the door, and Yuuri kept the car running, Yuri was still in his pyjamas, talking to Otabek over Skype. Otabek was eating lunch (Plain quinoa and boiled veggies; gross). “Sounds like someone’s calling you,” he pointed out, a hand over his mouth.

Yuri rolled his eyes. “It’s just Viktor and the piggy. They can wait.” At that exact moment, Viktor called for him to hurry up, as if on cue.

Otabek’s grainy image raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

Yuri groaned. “I’m so sick of this stupid wedding. Why the hell does it need so much planning anyway? All weddings are the same! Who the hell cares what flowers there are, or paper the invitations are on?! It’s just gonna be mushy and dumb and boring anyway.”

Otabek chuckled. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do! I’ve been to weddings before! They’re boring, and suits are uncomfortable, and they’re so damn looooong and they never pick any good music and I’m never allowed to use my phone.” Of course, he still did use his phone, but he usually got caught and lectured about it, and that was never fun.

“Yuri, you’re sixteen now,” Otabek reminded him, voice tinged with amusement.

Yuri didn’t know why that mattered. “So?”

“So, you can drink now. That’s the whole point of weddings. You sit patiently through the ceremony and then everyone gets hammered at the free bar and makes a fool of themselves. Trust me, it’s going to be a whole different experience now that you’re of age.”

Yuri hadn’t thought about that. Theoretically, Otabek could be right; everything was funner when alcohol was involved. And to be sure, in all the weddings he’d ever attended in the past, the adults did seem to be having a hell of a time. Additionally, the piggy was guaranteed to get plastered, and if the ensuing spectacle was anything like last years banquet, those pictures would do wonders for his follower count. If he could get through the next few weeks of planning, it could actually be a decently fun time. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit that to Otabek. “It’d be better if you were there,” he grumbled.

Otabek’s ghost of a grin fell away, and Yuri immediately regretted pulling the guilt trip. It was so hard to get Otabek to smile, and even though it’d been getting easier the longer they knew each other, it still hurt to be the cause of a frown. “I know,” he said. “But I told you, my family doesn’t want me going anywhere this summer. They barely get to see me anymore now that my skating career has taken off, and I need to spend as much time with them as I can during the off season.”

Yuri shook his head apologetically. “I know, I know. It’d just be nice to see you, that’s all.”

The smile was back, small as it was. “It’d be nice to see you too.” Then, Otabek bit his lip, and looked away. Yuri couldn’t pinpoint the expression. He seemed almost… ashamed? But that couldn’t be right, could it? What in the world would he be ashamed about? Wanting to spend time with his family? Wanting to spend time with him? But before Yuri could articulate how to ask, Viktor called for him to “hurry his angsty ass up” again.

“I better go,” Otabek said with a small smirk. “I don’t want to be the one to ruin the wedding.” Before Yuri could even say his farewells, he was faced with the end call screen. Otabek was gone. “You’re still in your pyjamas?!” Yuri whipped around to find Viktor at the door to his room, hands on his hips.

Oh, shit.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they clambered into the car, they were over an hour late and Viktor was fuming. Even a kiss on the cheek from his patiently waiting fiancé did little to mollify his irritation. Yuri, too, was annoyed. Viktor had forcefully shoved him out the door before he’d even finished combing through his hair, and now he was forced to sit in the back seat, working through the tangles with his fingers.

“Who were you talking to?” Yuuri asked knowingly, a tease in his voice.

“No one,” Yuri snapped, crossing his arms and glaring out the window, only to check himself upon realizing that Viktor was doing the exact same thing. He settled on pulling his hood up and sinking low in his seat instead, pressing on the back of Viktors’ with his feet. The audacity. He’d liked the piggy better when he was a snivelling, anxious mess that cried in bathroom stalls. Confident Yuuri was nosy, and he yearned for the days when he could roundhouse kick the man without feeling guilty. Yuuri paid his irritation no mind, and pressed on as they pulled out of the driveway.

“It was Otabek, wasn’t it? How is he?”

“Shut uuuuuuuuup.”

“It was.” Apparently, the old man wasn’t too angry to join in on the teasing. “I could hear them from downstairs.”

At that, Yuri dealt his seat a sharp kick, and after Viktor’s indignant yelp and Yuuri’s amused chuckle, the car fell to relative silence. Yuri turned back to his phone, and, out of habit, pulled up Snapchat. No new messages from Otabek. Damn. What was the end of that Skype call about? Otabek never hung up without saying goodbye, and telling him to have a good day. As abrasive as he seemed upon first impressions, he was courteous like that. He’d been brought up a gentleman, and once you got to know him he could be really considerate. He just had a lot of social anxiety, and it tended to manifest itself as insolence towards strangers. But he hadn’t been like that towards Yuri for months now. It was odd, and it worried him.

Caring so much about someone who wasn’t his grandfather was new to Yuri. He’d gone most of his life without any close friends, and with his grandfather being his only family. That had been completely fine with him too. His heart and soul was dedicated to skating alone, and feelings were for pansies anyway. It wasn’t until Viktor compelled him to feel agape that he ever reflected on his emotions. Even then, it was only ever about grandpa. Over time, though, he’d come to accept that he cared about more people than he could have ever thought himself capable of. He loved his cat, Sasha, of course. Though he wasn’t as close to them as he was to Otabek, and they still quibbled like they always had, he considered his rink mates his friends as well. Viktor and Yurri weren’t all that bad either, not that he’d ever admit it to their faces.

His feelings towards Otabek, however, went beyond all of that. It was more than just friendship, more than just agape. It was something he’d never experienced before, and as much as he despised mushy-gushy feelings, it excited him. A year ago, when Viktor had first played, and explained, the two opposing themes of the music that would soon be the base for his and Yuuri’s short programs, Yuri had thought he knew what eros was. He’d thought he knew enough to skate to it. Partly this was because agape sounded stupid, but he also genuinely believed he understood it. And sure, he’d felt sexual attraction before; he was a fifteen year old boy for fucks sake. He’d felt his blood heat and rush downwards at the thought of being with someone like that, and he’d reached palmed himself under the covers to these thoughts on more than a few occasions.

What he hadn’t understood at the time, was that in order to truly feel eros, you had to feel agape first. It was the piggy who taught him that. In the beginning, his eros program had been better than expected, but still weak, still hesitant. It was only when his relationship with Viktor blossomed that the sex appeal of his performance became truly captivating. Now, Yuri could admit that he hadn’t yet found his eros. After all, he had never been with anyone like that before. He was getting there though, slowly, as his affection and attraction towards his friend grew.

Of course, every now and then he thought that maybe cultivating these sorts of feelings towards his best friend wasn’t the best idea. After all, for all he knew Otabek was straight, or Otabek thought of him as a little brother, or Otabek just couldn’t think of him like that. And Yuri certainly didn’t want to ruin the only close friendship he had by taking his emotions too far. But the feeling was too good to push down. He hadn’t yet decided what he was going to do about it, if anything, but there was still time for that. It’d be stupid to tell Otabek anything while they were hundred of miles apart anyway.

Before he could dwell on it any longer, Yuuri pulled up to the tailors and parked the car. “We’re heeeerrre!” He sang.

Damnit, he was becoming more like Viktor by the day.


	2. Confessions and Risks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a wedding and a some questionable choices. Also Otabek's sister is the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who left comments and kudos on the last chapter, thank you so much! Anyway, here's the next chapter already because I love these boys too much to leave them be.

It was only after he flubbed the third jump of the day that Otabek admitted to himself that he might be freaking out a little.

The thought of having a crush on Yuri had plagued his mind ever since that conversation with Arina the day before. He hadn’t been able to sleep because of it, resorting to browsing Netflix at two in the morning to try and distract his hyper active mind. Now he was flubbing jumps that he’d been executing masterfully for years, and he knew he had to find a way to deal with this fast, or his chances of medalling in the upcoming season would be seriously compromised. He’d naively convinced himself that the Skype call he’d had scheduled with Yuri for that morning would snap him out of it. It had happened before, with other crushes of his. He’d hype them up in his mind over a period of not seeing them for a while, such as over summer break, and then when he’d see them again he’d realize that they weren’t as attractive as he’d remembered them. The feelings would be gone almost instantly. He’d mistakenly thought that if he saw Yuri face to face in real time he’d be reminded of his childishness, and this ridiculous crush would go away. Unfortunately, the call had the opposite effect. Instead of extinguishing the feelings, it fueled them. As Yuri whined about the upcoming wedding, Otabek caught himself thinking that he was adorable. _Adorable._ And when Yuri said he wished he could come to the wedding, Otabek had replied in that same soft and gentle voice that he’d used the day before, and now, somehow, he was panicking even more.

He tried going on a run to distract himself, but nearly all the music on his iPod had romantic themes or overtones and his mind kept circling back to thoughts of Yuri. When he got back home, he remembered how watching Netflix had kept the thoughts at bay the night before, so he ditched his routine and plopped down on the couch. That’s how his sister found him when she returned from her piano lessons hours later; sprawled on his couch in his sweat stained t-shirt and joggers, absently tossing pistachios into his mouth. She grew concerned immediately. She knew him too well. Otabek didn’t lounge. Otabek strived off discipline and hard work. If he was lazing around, something had to be seriously amiss.

“Beka, what’s wrong?” She placed her shoulder bag of sheet music on the coffee table and sat down beside him. The concern in her voice hurt him. She was the younger sibling, she shouldn’t be the one looking out for him. It was his job to take care of her, his job to make sure her heart was happy and whole and beat up anyone who would try to harm her. The fact that he’d fallen so low that his younger sister was stepping up to make him feel better was pathetic. What was he supposed to say? Neither their family, nor their community was very knowledgeable about same-sex attraction. He wasn’t even sure if they were homophobic; it just wasn’t talked about. Arina was eleven; had she even heard about this kind of thing before? He sure hadn’t at her age, not before he’d begun competing in countries where being openly gay wasn’t as out of the ordinary, or as stigmatized.

His head hurt. What was there to even say? He wasn’t gay. He was attracted to women, dated women, had sex with women. Bisexual? That wasn’t right. Yuri was the first guy he ever…thought about like that. And he wasn’t turned on by Yuri or anything. He was sixteen. Maybe it was Yuri’s feminine features and style that were confusing him. Yeah, maybe that was it. Maybe, once Yuri came into his manhood, this crazy notion would go away and … “Beka, is this about yesterday? About that Yuri boy?”

His racing mind screeched to a halt. She really did know him too well. He let out the breath he’d been holding in a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he choked out.

“What about him?”

“I think…” Otabek swallowed thickly. He glanced away. “I think I like him.” God, that sounded stupid. Yuri would have rolled his eyes into the next country at that one. But Arina nodded wisely, the knowing look in her eyes only slightly undercut by the bobbing of her dark pigtails.

“You think he’s pretty.”

Otabek let out a shuddering breath, a cross between a laugh and a sigh of relief. “Yeah.”

“Are you worried he doesn’t like you back?”

“No, I… I’m not supposed to be thinking about him like that.”

“Why not?”

Why not? “Because he’s a boy. And he’s younger than me. And he lives far away. And he’s my best friend.” Otabek felt like his heart was seizing. Saying those things just made them feel so much more real. Now that it was out in the open, he couldn’t take it back, and it terrified him.

Arina took a moment to contemplate his dilemma with a furrow in her brow. After a minute or so, she spoke. “Well, he’s not that much younger than you,” she said slowly. “It’s not like he’s a kid or anything. And mom’s five years younger than dad and it’s not weird at all.”

Otabek laughed. She had a point there.

Arina soldiered on, speaking more confidently now that he’d encouraged her. “And our Uncle used to live far away when he was in the army, but Auntie still loves him very much and they’re still super happy.”

Also true. “And I think its better that you were friends first, because then you already know that you like the same things.”

Where did his little sister learn all of this relationship advice? (Romantic comedies, probably.)

“And…” Here she hesitated a little. Otabek’s stomach felt hollow. But then, “I think it shouldn’t matter that he’s a boy. You like him, and you think he’s pretty, and that’s all that matters.”

Otabek turned and enveloped his sister in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he mumbled into her shoulder. Just the fact that Arina found no problem with his feelings made him feel so much better. He still wasn’t sure exactly what the feelings meant, or what he was going to do about them, but for now he was just relieved to have someone he loved know about them, and love him anyway.

“And if he ever comes over, I can braid his hair, right?”

Otabek laughed. “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

It was the day of the wedding and Yuri had never been more eager to down four shots of tequila in his life.

As anticipated, the ceremony had been boring as hell, and nauseatingly mushy. He’d been forced to stand still by Viktor’s side for hours that felt like days while the officiator groaned on and on. Then there’d been the vows, during which Yuri made it a point to roll his eyes as many times possible. Of course, Yuuri, who was facing him, noticed and shot him an infuriating smile in response, which put an end to his scheme. It wasn’t fun anymore if the idiots went along with it. They'd exchanged rings, which Yuuri thought was dumb seeing as they already had rings that they showed off everywhere they went. Then they’d kissed, and it was gross and overdone and for some reason Yuri’s face got stuck in a stupid smile and he didn’t even notice until they roped him in for a picture and the moment was immortalized forever on film.

Finally, they’d made it to the reception. That didn’t mean his misery was over though. Oh no, far from it. At that point, he had to sit through speeches, with nothing but a measly glass of champagne to dull the pain. As Viktor’s best man he’d had to say a few words as well, but out of courtesy for the guests he’d kept his short and sweet, embellished with appropriately funny anecdotes about how the two of them had made a spectacle of themselves at the Grand Prix, and how Viktor had said that they’d only get married once Yuuri won him a gold medal, but then he’d only gotten silver and now they were getting married anyway, which Yuri thought was dumb and not even fair because he was the one to win the gold and they were acting as if he hadn’t and how the hell were they going to compete against each other next season anyway if they were married?

After that, the speeches only went downhill.

Now, finally, finally, all the talking was over. The food was served and Yuri practically trampled over the Nishigori triplets on his way to the bar. He downed two shots without a moments hesitation, and then brought a vodka and coke back to his table because, on top of being hellishly bored, he was also ridiculously hungry. Within half an hour, the world was pleasantly spinning and Yuri sank back in his chair, content. Otabek was right; weddings were so much better when you could drink.

“What did you say about Otabek?” Yuuri, who was sitting beside him and digging into nothing other than a pork cutlet bowl, asked.

Oh shit, had he said that out loud? “Nothing.”

But his heart really wasn’t in it, and Yuuri saw through his denial. “I’m sorry he couldn’t make it. I know you miss him.”

“No I don’t.” Yuri scoffed, out of habit more than anything. But suddenly, he couldn’t see the point of hiding it. Some distant part of his brain told him he should really lay off the drinks, but he ignored it. 

“Yurio, I know he misses you too. You might not know this, but he really cares about you.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. Woah, he shouldn’t have done that. The world was spinning a whole lot faster now, and the flashing dance lights that had just been turned on smeared before his eyes. His leg bounced. Why wasn’t anyone dancing yet? God damnit, he needed to move. Wait, what was he going to say? What had they been talking about? Yuuri looked concerned. Oh, right, Otabek. “I know that.”

Yuuri smiled. “I’m not sure you do. The way he looks at you, the way he says your name, reminds me of how I used to talk about Viktor before I knew he felt the same way. Listen, you’re only going to regret it if you don’t say anything. I know that if I hadn’t, then…”

He was cut off by the booming voice of the DJ announcing, “And now, for the first time, presenting Mr. and Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov!” Yuuri beamed as Viktor promptly grabbed his hand and whisked him over to the center of the room. They glided across the tiles, gazing lovingly into one another’s eyes and smiling as if it was truly the best day of their lives. In that moment, bathed in tacky glittering lighting, they were just as graceful and mesmerizing as when they were on the ice. It wasn’t even all that gross.

Of course, as soon as they were done, and a faster paced song came on, Yuri raced to challenge the two of them to dance-off part two, because there was no way he was going to allow them to break his winning streak, wedding or no wedding.

 

* * *

 

 

 By the time Yuri’s cab dropped him off at home, it was three in the morning. He stumbled up the stairs and to his room. His head was still spinning, and he felt enormously giddy from all the alcohol and endorphins running through his system. He was already having a difficult time remembering some of the night’s events; all he knew is that there had been a hell of a lot of dancing. His button-down was soaked through with sweat, and his tie was undone; remnants of his dance-off victory. He had won, hadn’t he? He wasn’t even sure, and somehow, he didn’t really care.

By the end of the night Yuuri and Viktor’s love for one another had morphed from something sweet and heartwarming to something a little too raunchy for the general public. That was completely on-brand for them and so Yuri wasn’t the slightest bit surprised, but the sheer amount of couples that had paired off by the end of the night, piling into cabs with their hands in places they really shouldn't be, was a little shocking. Chris, of course, had begun making out with his boyfriend as soon as the dance-off was over, and by the time Yuri lost sight of them they didn’t have many clothes left to remove. Yuuri’s old-ass parents were uncharacteristically affectionate, holding hands and swaying to the music for the majority of the night. JJ and his fiancé started pointing out various aspects of the reception and asking where they’d been obtained, planning their own wedding before Yuuri and Viktor’s was even over. Leo and Guang-Hong began the night dancing side by side, which turned into jokingly grinding, which turned into the crowd chanting for a kiss, which, though initially sheepish and done for laughs, quickly turned into eating each others faces without any further prompting. The lust that spread through the atmosphere as the night went on seemed contagious, and Yuri couldn’t say he’d gone unaffected. He’d watched Viktor and Yuuri, Chris and his boyfriend, the Katsuki’s, JJ and Isabella, Leo and Guang-Hong and all he could think about was Otabek. Why oh why was the only person he wanted to touch him like that hundreds of miles away?

He vaguely remembered Yuuri giving him some advice. He’d told him Otabek cared about him. He’d said, “if you don’t say anything, you’re only going to regret it.” Those words echoed through his skull along with the beat of the music which seemed to have followed him out the doors of the reception hall and all the way to his grandfathers house. Did Otabek really look at him the way Yuuri used to look at Viktor? It seemed too good to be true. But if he was going to trust anyone to be right about something like that, it was going to be a love-bird like Yuuri.

His heart was beating as if he’d just stepped off the dance floor. Fuck, he wished Otabek could have come to the wedding. Then, maybe they would have come together like Leo and Guang-Hong. He could almost picture it, the two of them in the middle of the room, breathing the same air, Otabeks hand on his hip.

Tentatively, he put his own hand there, and closed his eyes. Yes, just like that. And then Otabek’s other hand would slide up his neck and weave his fingers through his hair…

This was it. This was eros.

The realization was exhilarating. It was just like when he’d figured out agape under that waterfall, only stronger.

_If you don’t tell him, you’re only going to regret it._

And he would wouldn’t he? If he never told him, then he’d never have the chance of feeling Otabek’s hand on his hip, in his hair. He’d never be able to kiss him, and the thought of living the rest of his life without ever kissing Otabek Altin made his head hurt. Yuri checked the time. It was just after three in the morning, which meant that in Almaty Otabek would be just waking up. Perfect. For the first time, the time difference didn’t suck.

He opened up Snapchat, and looked in the viewfinder. His face was flushed, and his hair was a mess, but he hoped he could pull it off as sexy rather than hammered. The top button on his shirt was already unbuttoned, but he undid another two just to be safe. Pulling the knot of his tie away from his neck as if about to whip it off, he bit his lip and gazed into the camera. Before he could stop himself, he took the picture and sent it.

As soon as his finger left the send button, Yuri’s heart began to pound that much faster. Oh shit, oh fuck. What had he done? But before he could spiral into a panic, Otabek replied. It was a selfie. Otabek never sent selfies. It was always the sky, or the ground, or sometimes just a black screen with a caption. But this time he’d replied with a picture of himself, smiling softly. His dark silken hair was an absolute mess, sticking up on one side of his head and plastered to his scalp on the other. He must have just woken up. Yuri surveyed the background, and sure enough, he was still in bed.

That was all the encouragement he needed. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and licked his lips. _Click!_ He sent it and waited. A minute went by without a reply. Then another and another. He was notified that Otabek had seen it, but he wasn’t saying anything. Yuri was growing impatient. Maybe he hadn’t gotten his point across clearly enough.

This time, Yuri undid his belt. He unzipped his pants and shimmied them down a little to reveal the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Holding his phone above his head and angling it down, he looped the thumb of his free hand under the waistband and pulled it down to show the V of his hips. He looked up through his lashes at the camera and thought _eros, eros, eros_. He took the picture, and sent it.

Once again, Otabek viewed the picture, but didn’t reply. Before the disappointment could consume him though, Yuri was hit by a sudden wave of exhaustion. Maybe if he went to bed he would wake up to a message from Otabek. It was a better use of his time than anxiously waiting anyway. He peeled off the remainder of his clothes and collapsed into bed, dead to the world the second his head touched the pillow.


	3. Feelings and Bravery

For the first time in months, Otabek awoke to zero Snapchat notifications from Yuri. _Right,_ he thought. Last night was the wedding. Yuri must have been busy.

It was disappointing nonetheless. Otabek liked his routines, and to have one of his favorites messed up so early in the day was disheartening, especially now that he’d begun coming to terms with his feelings for Yuri. It had been a few weeks since his realization and subsequent confession to Arina, and things had slowly returned to normal. He was sleeping again, sticking to his schedules, and his training was back on track. The only difference from before was that now, sitting at the breakfast table, Otabek no longer smiled silently at his phone as they ate. He’d share the pictures with Arina, and she’d coo over Yuri’s cat, or his grandfather’s food, or his latest outfit. If he thought a certain hairstyle or shirt looked particularly nice on Yuri, he’d say so, and more often than not Arina would agree. It was nice, to talk about it so openly. His feelings toward his friend no longer scared him. He still had no idea what he was going to do about them, if anything, but for now he was okay with admiring him from afar. He didn’t have to say anything anyway. There was nothing wrong with harboring a crush, keeping it between himself and his sister and letting it lift his spirits on the mornings when he wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about getting up to train.

After all, he didn’t even think he wanted to be with Yuri in that way. Sure, he admired his effortless beauty and boisterous personality, but sexually? It hadn’t even crossed his mind. He also doubted Yuri would reciprocate the feelings. He was so vocal about his disdain for Yuuri and Viktor’s public displays of affection that Otabek doubted he was ready for a romantic and/or sexual relationship himself.

His phone buzzed. It was a Snapchat notification from Yuri. Otabek furrowed his brow, and worked out the time in St. Petersburg. It was just past three in the morning. Wow, the reception must have run really late. Relieved that his morning routine wasn’t completely thrown off, Otabek opened the app. He was too excited to see post-wedding photos (hopefully of Yuri drunkenly dancing) to wait until Arina came down for breakfast.

The picture was a selfie of Yuri in his room, disheveled and clearly drunk, pulling off his tie and biting his lip. Damn, he really did look gorgeous. Otabek knew that Yuri was only playing at sexy. He did things like that sometimes, such as making kissy-faces to mock Yuuri and Viktor. It didn’t mean anything. The lip-bite was clearly a joke to emphasize how debauched he looked after a night of drinking and dancing, but Otabek couldn’t help imaging for a second that it was meant sincerely. Curious to see what drunk Yuri was like, Otabek replied almost immediately. He thought it only fair to reply with a selfie of himself looking just as disheveled so that Yuri wouldn’t be embarrassed later on, so he snapped a shot of his bedhead and sent it.

Yuri’s next message came less than a minute later, and Otabek almost dropped his phone.

It was another selfie, but this time Yuri had unbuttoned his shirt entirely, revealing a smooth chest and toned stomach. His hand gripped the back of his neck as if he was almost embarrassed but the tongue darting across his wet lips said otherwise.

Otabek stared, unblinking, until the image was gone, but it remained searing into his brain. What was Yuri doing? Did he know he was sending these pictures to his best friend? Was it still meant as a joke? A dare? Or – Otabek’s brain nearly short-circuited at the thought – was Yuri actually trying to be sexy for him?

He got his answer a few minutes later.

The picture was taken from above Yuri’s head and angled downward towards his unzipped pants. He’d pulled down his boxer briefs to reveal the lines of his hips. His head was tilted down as well, his lips slightly apart as if on an exhale, but his eyes peered back at him through his lashes, daring, begging, yearning.

This image too remained burned into his retinas long after it disappeared from the screen. Otabek’s brain had stopped functioning. He couldn’t think.

Oh, but he could _feel._

He felt that familiar heat growing in his groin, felt his cock throb against the mattress that restrained it, and he instinctively ground his hips against it. That minute movement sent ripples of pleasure through his veins, and he closed his eyes to savor them. When he did so, he could see the picture again, as clear as it had been on the screen of his phone, and he felt another wave of blood rush downwards.

Part of him knew that this was a bad idea. This would be crossing a line. Until that moment he’d been able to safely say that his crush on Yuri was purely innocent in nature. Doing this, allowing himself to indulge in his body’s automatic reaction to the images would change that. However, Yuri had crossed that line first, he reasoned. He’d clearly conveyed through those pictures that what he wanted was not friendship, nor was it innocence. The thought temporarily appeased his conscience and, eyes still closed, he flipped over onto his back and reached a hand down his boxers.

He sighed involuntarily at the touch. Stroking himself, he thought back to that last picture. The height at which Yuri had held the camera was only a little bit higher than where Otabek’s eyes would be, making it truly seem as if he was there, as if he was the one looking down at Yuri in that state, as if his eyes were what Yuri was gazing into with such an intense look of longing. He imagined that Yuri was putting on this show for him in the flesh rather than in a few short pictures. He imagined Yuri pulling his briefs down further, to reveal first a swath of light colored pubic hair and then, his quickly hardening dick. He imagined Yuri biting his lip like he had in that very first photo and taking hold of himself.

Then, Otabek would put his hands on the porcelain skin of his chest and fan his fingers out and up until he could slip the shirt off his shoulders. The shirt would slide off his dainty arms and crumple to the floor, and Otabek would run his hands all up and down his torso as he pulled him close. Yuri would look up at him and run his tongue across his lips and Otabek would duck down and kiss him, hard. He’d nip at those soft lips and run his hands through his golden hair. Then he’d walk him backwards into the wall and busy his head in the supple skin of Yuri’s neck. There he’d suck, until he drew out a whimper, and then he’d hastily press their lips together once more. From experience, he knew that at this point his neck would be growing tired of being angled downwards for so long, so he’d grab Yuri by the undersides of his thighs and hoist him up. Yuri would wrap his legs around his waist and his arms around his neck and Otabek would press closer still, wishing to close any space left between them.

Yuri’s exposed cock would be pressed in between them, leaking against Otabek’s stomach. He’d never been with another man before, but he knew how this worked, at least. Once he was sure that the wall and Yuri’s own grip around his waist would keep him up, he’d let go of one thigh and take hold of his dick instead. Here Yuri would gasp, arching his neck back and Otabek would nuzzle against it. He’d stroke him with a steady hand in the same way he was stroking himself. He wanted to see the beautiful ever-evolving monster come apart under his hands. He wanted to watch the scintillating green of his eyes be swallowed by his pupils. He wanted to feel every muscle tense and know that it was his touch, his love, that granted the Russian Fairy such ecstasy.

And with that thought, Otabek’s fantasy came to a mind-numbing close.

He lay back and felt his heart pump. With every beat his thoughts encroached further and further upon his temporary mental reprieve until he was overwhelmed with anxiety. Had he really just done that?

Scared of spiraling into a panic attack, Otabek forced himself out of bed and into a cold shower. He let the freezing water pound his skin until it grew red but it couldn’t rinse the thoughts from his mind. Frustrated, he groaned aloud and slapped his hands against the shower wall.

Before that morning, he’d managed to keep his feelings for Yuri detached from any sort of desire. If all he wanted was to admire Yuri from a distance, no one could get hurt. There were no risks to be taken. There was an important distinction between liking someone, and wanting to be with someone, and Otabek had dutifully stuck to the former for weeks now. Until those damn photos he had been content with watching Yuri skate from the sidelines, catching the occasional whiff of his strawberry shampoo and waking up to his Snapchat messages. Until those damn photos he had never entertained the thought of sitting with him at the kiss and cry, running his fingers through that strawberry waterfall of hair, and waking up to Yuri beside him in bed. Now though, he couldn’t stop thinking about what it.

At least he knew Yuri felt the same way. (Well, maybe not entirely; Yuri had made it clear that he was interested in him sexually, but he wasn’t so sure if the young Russian would be so keen on a romantic relationship.)

He had to reply either way. He couldn’t just leave Yuri hanging like that; it would be cruel. He had to let him know that he reciprocated the feelings, so Yuri wouldn’t feel embarrassed or regretful.

But how? Otabek had never been very good at expressing emotion or affection towards his previous female partners and with Yuri it was that much harder. He’d never been with another man before. If he responded positively to the photos, Yuri would assume that he wanted to get sexual. And although he now knew he was physically attracted to Yuri, he wasn’t sure he could handle acting on it yet. After all, he’d only realized his romantic feelings toward Yuri two weeks ago, and his sexual feelings that morning. Indeed, just thinking about actually being in that situation made his mouth grow dry and palms grow hot, despite the frigid water. He wouldn’t know what to do. What if he wasn’t able to please him? What if he embarrassed himself? What if Yuri laughed at him?

He didn't have much of a choice though, did he? He had to respond positively, because if he said nothing, their friendship would be in jeopardy, and Otabek couldn’t handle that. He couldn't imagine a life without Yuri's friendship, despite only knowing him for less than a year. He took a deep breath to stave off the panic attack that continued to prey on the corners of his psyche and shut off the water. It was his turn to be brave and bare his feelings. Once it was out in the open he could deal with any expectations and assumptions that Yuri may have. _One thing at a time_ , he told himself. 

One thing at a time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your lovely responses! I appreciate comments so much! Also, I have a friend visiting next week so updates might be slower, and I apologize in advance. 
> 
> Also what do you guys think of Yubo's news that Otabek likes to DJ? I feel like I'm going to have to make that into its own fic later on because that is absolutely amazing. Let me know if you'd be into that!


	4. Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! It's not very long, but I hope you like it. :)

Yuri’s head felt like it was about to burst. He’d woken up around noon to awful nausea and made it to the bathroom just in time to upchuck the entirety of his stomach contents into the toilet, and get a decent amount of it in his hair as well. _Fuck._

He showered until the water ran cold before stepping out and getting dressed in his sick day clothes; a humongous cat ear hoodie and a pair of leopard print leggings. He could hear his grandfather cooking downstairs, but for once the thought of his grandfather’s food was anything but appealing.

After downing a handful of Advil from the medicine cabinet, he collapsed back into bed and reached reflexively for his phone. No notifications from Otabek. That was strange. He almost always woke up to at least one good morning Snapchat. He tried to think back, remember any reason Otabek might not have sent him anything. Maybe he’d forgotten to plug his phone in before bed, and now it was dead? That wasn’t like him at all though. A memory tugged at the corner of his brain and he closed his eyes, trying to bring it to the foreground. For some reason he felt as if they’d already spoken that morning, but that couldn’t be right. He just woke up after all. Unless… He froze.

Oh no.

Oh _no_.

They had talked.

Well, no. Yuri had sexted him. Three times. And from the looks of it, Otabek hadn’t replied to the last two.

_Fuck!_

Maybe he could pretend that he didn’t remember it. If he couldn’t remember it, then there wouldn’t be any reason to talk about it, and not talking about it would probably be the best course of action if he wanted to keep their friendship the same as before. But it wouldn’t be the same, would it? Because either way, Otabek would still remember. And Yuri would know he remembered. If they didn’t talk about it, it would always hang over them. It would be awkward. Yuri couldn’t handle that. But what else could he do? How was he supposed to fix this? He’d never dealt with something like this before.

Suddenly, he had an idea. Yuuri. The piggy had gotten him into this mess; it was only right that he helped get him out of it. Also, if anyone knew exactly how to undo massive personal embarrassment, it would be him.

Yuri checked the time.

“Grandpa!” He called, swinging the door to his bedroom open and wincing at the volume of his own voice. “Have Viktor and Yuuri left for their honeymoon yet?”

His grandfather leaned out of the kitchen and into the hall. “I don’t think so. I remember they wanted to book their flight for later in the day so they could have time to rest.”

Thank god. He ran down the stairs, his head throbbing at every step. “Take me to their apartment.”

His grandfather raised an eyebrow. “Now? I just started making lunch.”

“Yes now!” Yuri yelled.

His grandfather looked unamused.

Shit, he hadn’t meant to yell. “Sorry,” He glanced down. “But it’s an emergency.” Grandpa regarded him carefully, before softening and bobbing his head. He removed his apron and turned off the oven. “Get your shoes on.”

 

* * *

 

 

Knock, knock, knock, **knock, knock, knock**!

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Yuuri called, wrapping his robe tightly around himself and dodging suitcases as he made his way to the front door. He’d been up for about an hour already to pack, but it was slow going. Viktor refused to get out of bed and help; in fact he spent a good ten minutes sleepily pinning Yuuri under the blanket, unwilling to let go of his personal heater. This left Yuuri, once disentangled from the web of sheets and limbs, to finish the packing on his own. It was irritating, sure, but he couldn’t stay angry at the silver haired beauty lazing under his covers. He loved Viktor with all his faults and follies; that’s why he married him. Plus, Viktor was adorable in his sleep. 

Yuuri finally made it to the door and wrenched it open to find a pale and disheveled Yurio standing in the hall. He was swaddled in baggy clothes that hung like drapes from his lithe frame. It was very much unlike him. His expression was different too. Instead of the exaggerated scowl that usually settled over his features, his eyes were wide and darting. He looked panicked. Yurio didn’t panic.

Yuuri ushered him in and over to one of the couches. He could tell the young man was hungover from the stumble of his walk and how he squinted in the light, so he hurried to bring him a glass of water. The boy didn’t even protest at the motherly treatment. He took a slow sip of the water handed to him, and let Yuuri sit beside him without a word.

“Yurio, what’s wrong?”

The blonde Russian couldn’t meet his eyes. “I need your help.”

That only served to fuel his concern. “What is it?”

“I fucked up. I was drunk and I send Otabek some…pictures, and he hasn’t replied and I don’t know what to do.”

Yuuri stared. The weight on his chest lifted and he nearly laughed. He’d been preparing himself for the worst, and here Yurio was just asking for advice about a boy.

Upon glimpsing the amusement on his face however, Yurio resumed his trademark scowl. “You’re the one who told me to make a move! This is all your fault!”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Yurio.” Yuuri said gently. “Why are you asking my help if you think I’m the one to blame?”

“Because you have to fix it! Because you’re naturally embarrassing and have experience with this kind of stuff!” He looked so distraught that if he wasn’t certain he’d be punched in the gut, Yuuri would have hugged him.

“Well, I can’t fix anything if I don’t know what you want to happen. So, what do you want?”

“I want things with Otabek to be like they were before.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Then, he bit his lip in hesitation. “I mean, I think so. I mean…I don’t know.”

Yuuri had never seen the Russian be uncertain before, and his heart went out with sympathy. “Okay, well, what did you want when you sent those pictures?”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “I told you, I was drunk.”

“I know. But alcohol doesn’t turn you into a different person. The things you do when you’re drunk are generally things you wish you could do sober, or things you’ve fantasized about, but been too shy or worried about the consequences to go through with. Being drunk makes you more confident, and a little more stupid, but it doesn’t change how you feel. Trust me,” Here he smiled, thinking back to that banquet in which he, the anxious mess who’d been crushing on Viktor Nikiforov for years, grew the balls to not only strip for the man, but also ask him to be his coach. “I would know.”

Yuri finally seemed to let down his guard. His shoulders fell and he directed his words at the floor. “I sent those pictures because I want to be more than friends with Otabek. I have for a while now. I just never thought he’d ever like me back so I didn’t do anything about it. But then at the wedding, you said he looked at me like you used to look at Viktor and I thought there might be a chance and I didn’t want to miss my opportunity.”

Yuuri nodded as Yurio echoed his words from the night before. “He does, you know. I’ve seen you two talk over Skype, and the whole time he’ll keep his eyes glued to you as if you’re the most important person on the planet.”

“Bullshit!” Yuri snapped. “You’re wrong! I believed you, and I sent those pictures, but obviously you were wrong because he hasn’t replied!”

“What’s going on?” The two Yuris’ whipped around. Having finally crawled out of bed, Viktor had meandered into the living room and stood behind the couch rubbing the bleariness from his eyes.

“None of your business, old man!” Yurio growled, but Yuuri could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

“He sent Otabek some explicit pictures last night when he was drunk and he hasn’t replied yet, so Yurio came to ask for our help.”

The smaller of the Russians scowled at him, but quickly relented, and added, “The piggy convinced me that he liked me back, but looks like he was wrong.”

Viktor frowned. “How do you know he doesn’t like you back?”

Yuri gaped. “We told you, he hasn’t replied! Keep up old man!”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he doesn’t feel the same way. Maybe he’s not replying for a different reason.”

Confusion descended upon Yuri’s face. “Like what?”

Yuuri had been nodding in agreement as his husband spoke, and now he took back the conversation. “Well, I don’t know Otabek that well, but I do know he’s not a very social guy. To me it seems like he isn’t too great with people, or expressing his feelings. So maybe he didn’t reply not because he doesn’t want to, but because he isn’t sure how to.”

Yuri hadn’t thought about that. But it made sense, didn’t it? “He has anxiety,” he mused aloud.

Yuuri smiled softly. “I know what that’s like. That’s probably it then. I think you should let him know that there’s no pressure, and that you’ll wait until he’d comfortable.”

Yuri began to nod, when his phone notification sound went off. He fished the device from his pocket and stared at the screen. It was a Snapchat message from Otabek. His shock must have been visible on his face because Yuuri immediately leaned forward and asked, “Is that him?”

Nodding wordlessly, Yuri opened the app.

It was another selfie. It appeared to be taken from within Otabek’s garage. He was leaning against his bike, wearing his nearly iconic leather jacket and fingerless gloves. But his chest beneath it was bare and his brows were scrunched together as if in intense concentration. Yuri’s breath hitched. From behind he heard a whistle. Viktor had leaned his forearms on the back of the couch and caught a glimpse of the screen before Yuri could hide it. He smirked. “Looks like your problem solved itself.”

Yuri leaped to his feet. The Advil had finally begun to kick in; his head was no longer killing him. “I gotta go.”

“Yeah you do!” Viktor cheered.

As he ran out the door and down to where his grandfather was waiting in the car, he sent a message to Otabek.

_Call me in 10._


	5. Promises

Yuri bolted from the car before his grandfather had managed to turn off the engine and climbed the stairs to his room in record time. He turned on his computer, footing tapping with impatience as it booted up. _Come onnnnnnn_. Finally, he arrived at his home screen, and the moment it opened he received the Skype call he’d been waiting for. He reached for the accept call button before remembering what he was wearing, and how stupid it would look in comparison to the pictures he’d sent the night before, and what Otabek was sure to still be wearing. He hastily ripped off the oversized cat ear hoodie and tossed on a random t-shirt he’d grabbed from the floor; surely it was dirty, but Otabek needn’t know that. After all, he couldn’t smell him from Almaty.

Otabek’s face fizzled into resolution and Yuri couldn’t restrain himself from grinning. It felt like he hadn’t spoken to his friend in forever, despite conversing only a few days prior. So much had happened since their last Skype call that it felt like months had gone by. During those few hours of panic in which Otabek hadn’t yet replied, Yuri was faced with the very real prospect of possibly never speaking to his best friend again. The immense relief that swept over him when he saw Otabek’s face, when he knew that he still wanted to talk, had him beaming like an idiot.

_Damnit Plisetsky, get your shit together!_ He mentally chided himself. He was the Ice Tiger of Russia: vicious, violent, and disgusted by all emotion. He was not going to start advertising his private affections like a certain gross pair of newlyweds. Swapping his smile of joy for a coy grin, he remarked, “I see you liked the photos I sent, huh?”

Otabek’s smile was small, but that was nothing new, and Yuri was too preoccupied with coming off as appropriately flirtatious that he didn’t notice anything was amiss. He was still wearing his leather jacket, though he’d zipped it back up, concealing his chest. “I did.”

“You know, there's more where that came from if you open up that jacket again.” Yuri teased.

In the end it wasn’t his silent self-admonishments that wiped the giddy smile from his face. It was Otabek’s obvious mask of worry, marring his typically stoic features, that snapped him out of it. “Beka?” He asked in concern.

Otabek had been staring off to the side, worrying his lip between his teeth with an anxious crease in his brow. At Yuri’s voice his pupils refocused on the webcam, but his gaze remained distant. One again he attempted his usual half-smile but it more closely resembled a pained grimace more than anything else. It was the way you smiled at the cameras after you’d lost a competition. Yuri’s heart sped up at the thought. “Yes?”

“What’s wrong?”

Otabek frowned. His thin façade of flirty confidence crumbled under Yuri’s probing scrutiny. “Hm? Nothing.”

Piercing green eyes held his for a few lengthy seconds, squinting in extreme concentration. When the Russian finally blinked it was while recoiling in his seat, horrified. “Oh my god. You lying bastard. You didn’t like them did you?”

“What? Of course I did! Why would I sent you that picture if I didn’t?”

Yuri had crossed his arms protectively over his chest and was shaking his head with vigor. “I knew it. I knew it! You took so long to reply, and when you did you still didn’t _say_ anything and… _god_.” He buried his head in his hands, allowing his hair to fall forward and conceal his face with a waterfall of gold. “If you felt the same way you would have replied immediately. It’s not something that should take hours to think about!”

Otabek was still confused, and he repeated himself. “Yura, why would I send you that picture if I didn’t like you?”

“I don’t know! Maybe you didn’t want to embarrass me so you decided to go along with it.” His features hardened. “That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why you’re acting so weird. Shit. I made you uncomfortable didn’t I?” Otebek opened his mouth to reply, but Yuri ranted on. His shame and disappointed had morphed into anger, and soon he was yelling. “But why? Why don’t you like me? I’ve tried so hard to get you to like me! Is it because I’m younger than you? Do you think I’m still a kid? I’m not a kid, Otabek!”

“I know!” It wasn’t normal for Otabek to raise his voice; it was highly unusual for him to open his mouth at all. So when he yelled, Yuri shut up immediately. “I know. You have to believe me, I do like you.” He exhaled a shaky laugh. “I like you a lot actually. I didn’t realize it until recently, but you’re cute and funny and you look like an amazing cook and you have the biggest heart even though you pretend you don’t and you’re so goddamn strong and… I think about you all the time.” It was a huge weight off his chest just to say that out loud. It wasn’t a secret anymore. Yuri knew, and although the thought was terrifying, it was also oddly exhilarating. He felt almost lighter.

However Yuri’s scowl remained. “But you didn’t mean it.”

“What?”

“The picture! Did you mean it?” Here Otabek hesitated, and once again, Yuri yelled in bitter triumph. “I knew it! You don’t think I’m ready, do you? That’s why you’re so uncomfortable. That’s why you took so long to reply; you were debating whether it would give me the wrong idea. Damnit, I’m not that much younger than you! It’s 2017, I don’t have to stay a virgin until marriage for fucks sake. Beka, I want to be with you. I’ve wanted to be with you for months now. I’m ready to be with you.”

“But I’m not.”

He’d said it so softly that his words barely registered through the microphone, but Yuri picked up on it. It was his turn to be immensely confused. “What?”

“You’re right. I didn’t mean the picture. But I did mean what I said; I really like you. And I didn’t want to lose my only chance of being with you just because I was scared.” He shook his head. “But I am. I’ve never felt anything like this for a guy before. I thought I was straight until two weeks ago. And until this morning I thought this was just some casual crush. Everything is changing so fast and I’ve been really confused about how I feel and I’ve been trying to work through it but it's hard. I thought I could get over my anxiety and just be with you because I really, _truly_ , want to, but as soon as I sent that picture I realized I wasn’t ready for that at all.” He was beginning to tear up and guilt gnawed at Yuri’s gut for screaming at him earlier. “What will my parents think? I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t want to lose them either. I just don’t know what to do and I can’t…” His voice petered out and Yuri wished desperately that he would spontaneously develop the power to teleport so he could envelop his friend in a hug. He’d never seen Otabek express so much emotion before. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d heard Otabek use so many words at once.

Yuri wasn’t accustomed to being the one doing the comforting, but for Beka he’d try anything. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured gently. Damnit, he really wasn’t good at this. What would Yuuri say in this situation? “You’re not going to lose anyone, I promise. You don’t have to decide on anything yet. We can take things slow. I know what its like; it took me a while to accept I was gay too.” This surprised Otabek. Yuri had always seemed so secure in his own skin that it was hard to imagine him feeling this same inner turmoil. He knew the small Russian had a fair amount of insecurities under his thick shield of sarcasm and scowls, but he’d always been so comfortable with his own femininity that it was hard to imagine a time when he wasn’t. It was reassuring, in a way. “We’ll work through this together. If you’re not ready, that’s okay. We can take things slow. And if you decide you don’t want this, that’s okay too.”

Otabek looked up. His breathing had evened out, though his eyes remained slightly reddened. Yuri was smiling at him with sorrowful softness and Otabek’s heart clenched. He could tell the younger boy meant it. And although he was sure he did want it, if only in the distant future, the offer alleviated any remaining concerns he had about Yuri’s feelings and intentions. Yuri cared about his well-being more than he cared about his own desires, and the enormity of such a self-sacrificial statement coming from Yuri Plisetsky was not lost on him. “I do.” He reassured him. Finally he was able to muster a genuine smile. “I really do want to be with you. But I need to work through some things first.”

Yuri nodded. “Of course, take all the time you need. And I’ll always be here for you if you need to talk.”

“Thank you.” Gripped by a sudden thought that had been sparked by the incongruent formality of the conversation, Yuri sat up. “We’re still going to be friends right? Nothing is going to change, is it?”

“Of course,” Otabek reassured him. Before he could sign off though, he realized there was one more thing he had to say. “Look, I don’t want you to feel obligated to wait for me. I mean, if you find someone else in the meantime, I don’t want to hold you back or anything. I don't want to you to resent me because I kept you from starting a relationship with someone who was ready to love you the way you deserve. Your friendship is more important to me than anything else.”

Yuri shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want anyone else.”

Although touched by the declaration of devotion, Otabek remained uncertain. “Are you sure you want to wait for me? I don't know how long I’ll need to figure things out and in addition we don’t see each other in person very often. It could be a while.”

Yuri smirked. “Well there is one thing you could do to tide me over.”

“Like what?”

The mischievous twinkle in Yuri’s eye was back. “Send me that picture again. I didn’t get too good of a look at it because I was at Piggy’s.”

Otabek laughed. With all expectations lifted, he realized he actually kind of enjoyed this flirtatious banter, if only to watch Yuri do that thing with his lips. “Only if you send yours again too.”

Yuri raised an eyebrow. “You liked them?”

Otabek swallowed, and the tip of his nose turned pink. Yuri had never seen him blush before. “Let’s just say my anxiety wasn’t the only reason I took so long to reply.”

The idiotic smile was back upon his face but this time Yuri couldn’t give less of a damn. “Really?”

The dark haired boy nodded sheepishly. “I’m nowhere near ready to see you in that way in person, let alone do anything physical, but …” Christ, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so embarrassingly sincere. Agh, fuck it. “ _God_ , you’re attractive.”

The smile stayed on Yuri’s face for the rest of the day, and no amount of teasing from friends and family could make him give a shit. Though he may have still chucked the phone when Viktor called from the airport to tease him. After all, he couldn’t let the old man start to think he was getting soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all once again for your lovely comments! They keep me motivated :). I think there will be about 2-3 more chapters before this fic comes to a close, though they might not be up until the weekend because I have midterms. Until then, let me know what you think!


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